


Adoration

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Series: Clan of the Bat [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: It may not seem like it, but Alfred Pennyworth simply adored his charge, the only son of Martha and Thomas Wayne, his dear friends and employers. He loved Bruce, no different from his own child because family was more than bound by blood. It was also bound by love.





	Adoration

**Author's Note:**

> **[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]**

It may not seem like it, but Alfred Pennyworth simply adored his charge, the only son of Martha and Thomas Wayne, his dear friends and employers. He loved Bruce, no different from his own child because family was more than just bound by blood. It was also bound by love. 

"Alfred," a three year old Bruce called out, reaching his arms up in a silent question. "Up?"

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, picking up his toddler charge. 

Bruce smiled, a beautiful delight in the world, and laughed, a wonder that put the brightest star to shame.  

Several times, Alfred did his best to keep his affections in check, for it was improper for an Englishman to throw his emotions around like a bag of candy. 

"Love you, Alfred," little Bruce giggled out, hugging his caretaker. 

And Alfred all but melted, his heart beating even stronger. He let his expression go for that moment, and he too smiled, pressing their foreheads together. "I you, Bruce," the butler softly replied, quiet so only they could hear. "I you."

And that didn't change, even five years later when tragedy struck them both with the sound of two gun shots in a dark alley and the world became a little dimmer. 

"We should go, Master Bruce," Alfred said, placing a hand on his ward's shoulder. The sun was setting over the family burial grounds.

It was only fortunate that Martha and Thomas had established their will years before and gave complete guardianship of Bruce to the British man. Alfred wouldn't dare to think of living without the boy to take care of. He would've followed Bruce whenever he would've gone. 

"Alfred," Bruce said, lifting his head to face Alfred standing behind him, "I didn't mean to."

And Alfred understood. He prayed every night to God that he did right by the boy as he raised Bruce in a nearly empty household in a Manor too big for two people. He didn't believe in the Lord, but he was trying. 

So when Bruce, barely eighteen years old, disappeared suddenly one night, Alfred was heartbroken. He thought he had failed his dear friends. He thought he had failed Bruce. It took a little over a year to accept Bruce's disappearance, watching over the Manor and other Wayne properties carefully while handing Wayne Enterprise's welfare to Lucius. 

The former MI-6 was diligent that everything was ready for Bruce when he returned. If he returned. 

He did, almost ten years later, and all of Gotham knew. The city seemed to have revived from the death of the Wayne overnight, and Brucie Wayne was introduced to society, a man of both scandal and business success, idiot playboy and caring philanthropist. 

"I'm back, Alfred," Bruce said, the night before, taller and more muscular than Alfred remembered.

It seemed like just yesterday that his boy was merely thin and intelligent. Now he was older, much more hardened, not because of the places and people he met but because he sought them out on purpose. He had grown to be a dangerous man, even more brilliant but also even more closed off, his shell grown thicker and rougher. 

But Alfred was over the moon about his ward's return. Bruce was back, safe and alive. That was all he could ask for. "Welcome back, Master Bruce," Alfred replied with a small smile. 

However, Alfred didn't expect the other thing to come next. The Batman. It was, by all means, an absolutely crazy idea, dressing up in a giant bat costume at night to put fear into the criminals of the city. It was borderline stupid because Bruce was only one man, but he was a stubborn man with a goal. He wanted to protect the city that he loved, the city that was his parents' hope. He wanted to protect others so that no one had to go through what he went through once. He wanted to protect, so if he thought that being a nocturnal vigilante was the way, then Alfred, however against it, would happily accepted the Batman into his life. 

But it didn't stop there. Because for the first time in nearly two decades, the family started to thrive, starting with one little boy who too lost so much in one night, one Richard John Grayson.

"I'm going to adopt him," Bruce said as they waited for the police to arrest the man who did the Flying Graysons wrong. "Are you okay with that, Alfred?"

Alfred smiled, nodding. "I would be more than happy to clean out another room," he replied. "It has been so long since small feet ran through the halls."

So then the family of two became a family of three, the secret circle of Batman extended by one sidekick in bright red, green and yellow colors. Then three became four, then five, then suddenly, it was hard to keep count. 

There were many hard time, most definitely. Many times, Alfred wanted nothing more than to cut ties with all of the nighttime activities, pack his bags and return to England. Too many time, it was just too hard to move on. Children died under his care. Children broke under his care. He couldn't do anything, and that only made it so much more painful. 

But if he left the Batman, he would have to leave Gotham and the Manor. He would have to say his goodbyes to the young masters and the young misses, who were had the most the most gentlest of souls, and they would send him off with the best wishes and the most compassionate understanding. They loved him so much that they would happily let him go if he wanted to. And that just made it that much more difficult to leave. 

Most of all, he would have to leave his oldest ward, who would understand more than anyone else in the world. Because Bruce loved him too, loved him like a father, and he knew how dangerous it was to be the Batman firsthand. If it was possible, Bruce would have taken all the brunt of the work and the pain all on his own, quietly suffering alone to spare everyone else. 

Alfred had no choice but to stay. He wanted to. 

And there were the few, few moments when everything was okay, just long enough to pretend as if the world wasn't always falling apart on itself. It was usually in the cave, when he was alone with another member of the family. Alfred truly treasured those moments. 

"Maybe you should go upstairs and head to bed, Master Bruce," Alfred said after the Batman returned from another night of patrol. 

Bruce was sitting at the console, cowl hanging over his shoulders as he focused on the computer screen before him. He was tired, running on three hours of sleep twenty-one hours before. "I'll be fine, Alfred," he said tonelessly. 

Alfred sighed on disappointment. "It has been a quiet night, Bruce,” he tried again, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "You need your rest if you're going to function properly. Besides, you have a board meeting at 1PM. Lucius would not appreciate you falling asleep halfway through."

Bruce groaned at the thought of the impending meeting, leaning head without much thought against his oldest friend's arm. "Wake me up in time?"

"Always, Master Bruce."


End file.
